


Extremes

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Phasma knows how to help a boy who feels things in the extreme.





	

Kylo wriggles his fingers, feeling for how snug the binders hold his wrists in place above his head. His body exposed, his chest open. It’s thrilling, but also a little scary.

(Of course he _could_  escape, and he could even _ask_ to be let out, but that is not the point. His pride means he’ll do no such thing.)

His hands clutch tight as she lifts the body-warmed cage. He knows what it means, and he wills himself to stay as soft as he can as she slips the rings around his shaft. It’s difficult, and he has to distance himself from his body. His pleasure is at her willing, if he gets it at all. Around go the loops, and then the final cinch above his balls means this is it. No more. 

Next comes the thin rod intended to slip inside his piss-hole, and he always feels worry when this goes in. He tightens his grip on the binders, and tries to feel as relaxed as he can. Tries to not panic as it stretches him slightly, sliding back inside his most intimate of places, and then locked into position at the very end of the cage. He can’t think about his dick too much, or it will twitch inside the bonds and the chafing stick inside will rub unpleasantly.

Okay. No penis today. Got it. 

Kylo waits to see what she’s going to do next, and turns to follow her out of the room using only his eyes. The fact he’s not blindfolded says a lot, and he bites hard on his lower lip when she returns with a jug of icecubes, and… a candle? With a long lighter?

Phasma puts down the jug, then lights the candle. It’s put to one side to burn, and he wonders if it’s just for the atmosphere or not. He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, because there’s suddenly icy hell on his nipples and he _howls_ in surprise. He shouldn’t _be_ surprised, and yet he is. It stings like he’s been needled right through, and when he doesn’t quiet down, her cold hands put the cubes over the cage on his dick.

They don’t touch his prick directly, but they soak up all the heat and the shock of the chill goes right up into his scrotum, making his cock shrivel further.

“You’re going to need to behave, soldier.”  


Kylo wants to tell her he’s no soldier, but he _did_ agree to this, and if that’s her kink, well. 

“Sorry, Ma’am.”  


“Don’t you forget it.” 

The cubes lift from his cage, much to his satisfaction. He hisses through his teeth as they reappear on his inner thighs, and he has to throw his whole body into not bucking and kicking. It’s right on a sensitive line of sensation, and his toes want to extend but he - he - fuck fuck fuck fuck. _He wants to beg for mercy and he can’t_. Up they slide, melting under her fingertips and leaching out all the heat from his groin. Around and around, over his pubes, melting into dribbles and swirls that chase the curve of his legs.   


He can’t get hard, but he really couldn’t now. Not with the chill. Kylo whimpers as she pushes the shards inside the cage, letting them end their life there. The next two come out to draw over his throat, and up to his temples (just glancingly). It’s giving him a low headache, but it’s… weird. The kind of cold burn that makes your skin glide, and the pain is sharp and bright and _clean_. Clean. That’s the word. Clinical. 

The two cubes are placed in his navel and just above, and he’s trying hard not to breathe them off when all of a sudden her hand moves, and there’s **fire**. Literal fire. Burning, scalding - but only for seconds in every place it touches. Scorching hot - not the minty cold - and he smells the paraffin of the candle as it’s tilted over his skin.

Every droplet that lands from the dribbling candle hits his skin and burns for a mere moment before hardening to his flesh. It seals around fine hairs, and it leaves his skin looking like a patchwork of colour. The two cubes on his belly counterpoint the sensation, and his mind just can’t… work through it.

“You like that?” Phasma asks, her lips quirking in amusement.  


Kylo thinks, but thinking is hard. His mind is washing out with sensation, and finding his tongue again is a challenge. “Y-yes…” He thinks he does. The pain is an exquisitely strong sensation, and the two things balance each other out. Or…

No. He feels both extremes at once. Hot **and** cold. Not somewhere in the middle. “M-more, Ma’am?”

She grabs a cube with one hand, drawing it up over his skin. The candle-wax trails follow in the wake, and Kylo’s mind explodes from the confusion, his mouth howling out a wail at the crossed wires. She’s smiling, but he can barely see it. Up and down, crossing his body, trailing between existing dribbles until he feels his whole chest encased. Every breath cracks the layer, and tugs at the hairs. Sharp, sharp, sharp.

The spreading web across his chest is just… so good. It’s not even about sex, it’s about his nerves, his skin. It’s about the pain that makes his mind quieten, and the thoughts go. 

When she’s finished, he simply lies there. His eyes roll up, and he drifts on the soft wave of the feelings. The way every breath becomes deliberate, every sigh is one against a hand on his chest, telling him it’s okay.

Short, practical nails start to peel him out. He feels the pain as some of the droplets are pulled free, and the release is like breaking a scab over healed skin. Pluck, pluck, pluck. Her thumbs glide over his newly bared surface, and they glide so easily that he drops out of his mind entirely. Out and out and out, and then he’s gone. 


End file.
